


Self-centered

by UMsArchive



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UMsArchive/pseuds/UMsArchive
Summary: But Phichit possibly - and accidentally -  took more than he probably needed from him, Chris comes to realize. More than he’d want. He took an eager regard and worry and wonder. Maybe more. Chris doesn’t find it probable that he would’ve given them by himself. He wouldn’t just sabotage himself like that. He’s been talking to Phichit more than he does with anyone else lately and he misses Phichit all the same. It’s odd and he doesn’t understand it entirely. One thing he’s always understood about himself, though, is knowing what he wants. And he wants Phichit although he’s not entirely decided how much and in what way.





	Self-centered

A man who has nothing which he is willing to fight for, nothing which he cares more about than he does about his personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free,  unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself. 

— 

| 

[John Stuart Mill](http://philosophybits.tumblr.com/tagged/John-Stuart-Mill)  
  
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_ “- so self-centered.”  _

 

The word makes its way to him with probably much less weight than its wielder meant it to carry. Christophe can’t quite understand the reason why the word would need to carry reprove in the first place. One is supposed to centre his life around his own self. One is supposed to make decisions that would boost or gratify his own self, before anyone else. One is supposed to put his own success first. It’s a matter of self care. Of survival. Chris doesn't believe in sacrifice as an appropriate way to live one's life. He doesn't mean to subdue anyone for his own benefit either,  no, but if they're only floating by hanging onto him, if he's becoming the one in danger of drowning, he's got to let them go. 

 

Of course he chose his father over his mother after their divorce, since  _ he _ could afford to cover his skating costs and she couldn’t - his mother understood the necessity of it, too. He’s changed a longtime coach for one well known for his connections and the benefits he could bring to his skaters, of course - that’s logical, easy business. 

 

Nicolas obviously has different opinions. Of course Christophe would cancel an anniversary for an unscheduled sponsorship meeting. It's only natural to put such a beneficial item as a priority issue.

 

But Chris understands everyone else has to put their own self first. So since he can’t give as much as to satisfy Nicolas’ needs, he lets him go, no matter that he liked him rather well and his presence in his house was more comforting than anything else; Chris’ cat liked him, too. But well...

 

Christophe Giacometti isn’t selfish or aloof, but his limit is the endangerment of his own good. He likes people and he cares about the people he likes. 

 

Christophe Giacometti likes Victor Nikiforov for one. And the fact that Victor is neglecting his own good and putting his glorious career on the line has Chris rather worried for his long time rival's mental state. 

 

“You misunderstand, Chris. This is not shoving myself aside," Victor languidly answers over a whiskey on the rocks. "It’s just that my own well-being also encompasses  _ his _ well-being now."

 

He sounds like he believes it, like this is for his own benefit, like it's the best thing he's ever gained for himself and given his previous accomplishments that's perhaps a far reach. But Chris lets him be.

 

Christophe likes Yuuri, too. He's a man who's self centered without anyone's - not even Yuuri’s own - knowledge. He goes through life asking for nothing, but working for everything - just in case. Makes people love to give him the things he wants. Makes people love him. Want him. 

 

And it's because Chris knew Victor and because he knew Yuuri that his path crosses a third person's in a more than necessary measure.

 

Phichit Chulanont is a strange creature and Christophe's first mistake is thinking it might be fun, trying to figure him out. Phichit appears to be so carefree, so unconscious about about being on a cruel battlefield where people crumble under pressure, under age that's only old for people like them, under jumps. He is an absolute airy ray of sunshine. He's nice to have around - generally. He is grounding for Yuuri. He is helpful to Victor. He is a social butterfly and every skater knows him; each of them appreciates him, befriends him or owes him.

 

But it's quite silly to think of him as a disinterested gift that keeps on giving.  No one ever is really like that. Phichit, too, is self centered. He works and he holds pride in his work and he has ambitious plans and all of them are meant to put him in his very own spotlight. While the way he works around should be technically seen as malicious, all Phichit does is nothing but pure and sincere. He seems like a confusing alien in Christophe's eyes, too uncomplicated, too clear and unassuming.  So, of course, Chris does the dumb thing of complicating everything.

 

He does so on the night before the World Championship's exhibition. He's got himself a bronze, not his greatest accomplishment, but it feels well to be back on the podium. The gold and silver were snatched by Victor and Yuuri, not quite surprising. They are dining out, a wide group of skaters, and Chris is sitting next to Phichit like he did at the GPF. He's been quite tame back then, nothing but friendly, as he's been at the Cup of China, a great veteran chump to the newcomer in the top fifteen - top ten at World's . 

 

He's flirting lightly and Phichit appears just as lightly confused. He can see him trying to figure this out. But the confusion soon fades and he starts matching Christophe at his own game, ever so bright and cheerful compared to Chris' crisp sensuality. 

 

Chris is curious to see, what Phichit will offer, what Phichit will take.

 

They get to the hotel later than everyone else, after wandering and chatting some more and they both act perfectly clueless regarding what's been going on.  When they go separate ways to their respective rooms at opposite sides of the same hall, there's seemingly no kind of tension in the lingering space.

 

If Christophe's imagination wanders 10 minutes later in the shower, if he's curious about how certain acts would transform the younger man's facial expressions, how they would morph the inflections of his voice, that's none to fret upon, it's private, it doesn't affect a single soul.

 

If on the next evening Chris pinches Phichit's cheek before his exhibition and if Chris catches sight of Phichit excitedly whistling during his, that's not to be frowned upon. It's a slow game, as Chris means to play it. He wants to take this apart layer by layer. It's the sort he enjoys most and it's been a while since he's encountered an adequate recipient for leisurely attentions, for a slowly evolving desire.  

 

He's a bit more straightforward at the banquet, with small and meaningless, but constant touches, keeping a distance while leaning closely into Phichit's personal space, casually serving food from his own plate despite Phichit having his own, dancing him and talking him into near hypnosis. He does it all too casually, still, without any real insinuation, without making a decisive move. His aim is not to get the man into his bed tonight. He means to have Phichit thinking of him in his absence. He wants him wondering what's going on. He wants him to question how much Christophe wants. He wants that to lead him to figuring out how much he would offer. He wants to be looked for and thought of and generally desired.  

 

They have exchanged number long ago so there's not much to lengthen their farewells, which are terribly platonic; even the kiss Chris gives Phichit's cheek is too casual to appear lewd. Others may wonder at the friendliness. Phichit might, too. But that is the plan. And from a peculiar one like Chris many opposing explanation would've been perfectly valid.

 

Conveniently, Victor and Yuuri invites them over to Hasetsu for an ice show for the fun of it (and charity - he didn't pay to much attention to the object of that charity). It sounds all very nice, especially since it's all taking place after another ice show in Japan that all of them are also attending. Phichit is the first he finds it out from - it appears he and Yuuri are more constant and faster correspondents. So he's heard of it since Yuuri's 'we might be doing this' before Victor's 'we are doing this' came through.

 

It’s perhaps a bit sooner than he expects that Phichit’s breath hitches, back arching, fingers tangled in Christophe’s hair, too soon for Chris to be smirking like that at the sight of Phichit’s widened eyes and colored cheeks, too soon to feel that shiver running down his spine as Phichit’s legs are crossed tightly around his waist. Definitely too soon to feel that strange drop in his stomach as Phichit throws his head back with  _ that _ laughter. But it is all nothing but delightful. They both get what they want. Why should it matter?

 

There is no hint of it, in public. They don’t talk about it. Strangely, they do talk about almost anything else. Phichit is his usual ray of sunshine persona. Chris is in a very good mood around him. Flirty as usual, unusually complacent. Carefree as usual, unusually meaning it.

 

One day, he laughs ridiculously loud at something Phichit says. No one seems to find it odd. Christophe’s voice always rings loudly, even if he’s almost always speaking low. Victor does. Victor throws him a wary glance. Chris understand it entirely but doesn’t get it a little bit. That’s the whole of the exchange in the matter, though, so it passes. It escapes his memory. For  _ quite a while _ , anyway.

 

Chris watches Phichit’s back, going towards his own gate to catch his own flight - departing about half an hour earlier than Christophe’s own - and he’s alright with that, although he’s quite looking forward to their next encounter. _ Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go. _

 

And Phichit smiles, brightly, as usual, before he goes out of sight. Nothing else stays in his memory from this trip more quite like that image.

 

They still don’t talk about it. Their messages are open. Chris is flirty. Phichit is joyous. None is confrontational. 

 

They meet again at the Cup of China - all over again. It’s all like a strange deja-vu, although nothing is the same. They are all too casual, and nothing like it used to be. But Victor isn’t there to judge, so by everyone else it passes unobserved. 

 

“I can take care of myself,” Phichit declares, not in the slightest mean or grudgingly, with the ever bright smile, leaving the room earlier than Chris expected, to catch his train, declining Chris’ sleepy accompaniment offer to the airport.

 

It is something Christophe can understand. The necessity of taking care of one’s self. The satisfaction of taking care of one’s self. But he finds it he kind of regrets the refusal all the same, though he is not quite sure why. 

 

Phichit doesn’t qualify for the final, ending on the 7th place on a whole. Falls behind by only a point from making it. It’s all frustrating. Chris is even more frustrated to be feeling more frustration than Phichit himself expresses. 

 

_ You wanted to see me that much? _ Phichit sends with a wink, coming off quite not right in a too tension filled space for a Watsapp talk. It is obviously just  _ more  _ to it? Why does he act like it’s nothing? Why wouldn’t he be pissed once in his life at the so unfair circumstance? So unlucky - rather -  of a circumstance. Something one can justly be upset about. But Phichit is never upset. Phichit isn’t upset at anything. It annoys Chris.

 

Christophe places 2nd in the final. He didn’t quite expect it. He is pleased, still, but not excited much. He’s been figuring it all out before now, but he is getting more and more assured by this point that he’s been drifting off somehow, growing out of it. He deliberates retirement and he tells no one of it.

 

_ Haha, I would’ve made 6th again, anyways _ , is all that Phichit again replies, oh so cheerily, at Chris mentioning half-flirtatiously, half-seriously what a shame it is he wasn’t there, filling him in on details he probably already heard from Yuuri, but listened patiently through all the same. And before thinking better of it, Chris uncharacteristically flares up about it -  _ so stupid! _

 

_ Chris, I’m not in the ‘winning’ top, that I am aware of. There a certain amount I can achieve, internationally-wise _ , Phichit is answering oh so humbly and Chris must try hard not to lose it again until they’re done for the time being. 

 

During Europeans, Victor quirks an eyebrow at him, saying he’s ‘distracted’ and ‘restless’ when obviously he’s doing just fine. He skates confidently and medals and smiles and drinks. And he checks his phone quite a few times, undeniably. He’s not received any good lucks or congratulations from Phichit like during the qualifiers, which he finds slightly odd. 

 

Victor misses for like half an hour, talking on the phone with Yuuri outside the bar and he’s starting to get quite bored, scrolling through social media. There are other skaters here, but Chris lost track of the conversation 10 minutes ago and he doesn’t feel like getting back on it. Perhaps he’s getting old for this. 

 

Victor comes back in with reddened ears and nose from the cold and a thoughtful expression. “Chris, I’m heading back for the night,” his expression shifts, his voice casual, “You coming, too? You should. You have an early flight as well.”

 

“Good call,” he says back, sitting up and cheerily waving his goodbyes. His flight is at noon, so he figures there’s a talk on the way.

 

Victor doesn’t really say anything as they head out, the hotel at walking distance, so Chris starts the conversation instead, “So how’s Yuuri?” Always the best starter for Victor, these days. 

 

“Oh,  _ he _ ’s well,” Victor replies lightly. “Yakov had just finished giving him an earful on his quad Lutz-”

 

“Is he planning on introducing it in his short, or only the free skate?” Chris follows up.

 

“He’s got the Flip he wants to keep in the short, already, so it would be too much. He’s giving it a try in the free skate at 4 Continents, though. He’s been landing it consistently over the last month, but he was distracted today, so both I and Yakov agreed he should take a break from that. It’s about his friend - Phichit?” he arches his brow with meaning, but if Chris’ eyes snap up and are narrowed in the span of a single second, he doesn’t say anything of it.

 

“He’s had an injury in practice. Called Yuuri last night to tell him he’d be entering surgery soon - hip surgery. Celestino kept him updated - you know, Phichit’s coach - and everything’s going smoothly, of course, but you know how worrisome my Yuuri is-”

 

The conversation shifts smoothly back to Yuuri and they continue the idle talk until they’re off to their own rooms. 

 

Chris goes in, closes the door behind him, and has to stand there with a blank stare, finally letting the information sink in. He takes out his phone, looks at it absentmindedly, 

hesitates, walks towards the bed, deposits the phone on the nightstand, then leaves towards the bathroom. He spins, comes back again, picks it back up. He thinks better of it. Phichit’s phone might be in Cialdini’s possession at the moment.

 

Yuuri was Phichit’s choice for a call in such a matter, which is perfectly understandable and definitely expected, so it is dumb for Christophe to feel mildly irked. But the irking feeling is overcame by something else. He realizes he’s fretting.

 

He sighs. He ought to get to sleep and maybe call Yuuri in the morning for an update. That would have to be Yuuri’s convenient timing. What time difference is between here and Saint Petersburg again?

 

He doesn’t sleep, but he watches two whole movies. At 5 AM his time, it seems an appropriate hour to make a call. Yuuri answers on the second ring. Perhaps he’s too sleep deprived at this point, but Chris doesn’t even try to skirt around it. He asks his questions in a monotonous voice and Yuuri doesn’t seem at all taken aback, all polite and serviable. With the confirmation that Phichit is well and also in possession of a phone by now, he finishes the call and closes his eyes for a second.

 

It turns into a three hours nap he jumps out of, feeling confused. He’s still exhausted. He looks like shit. He needs to call Phichit already. Or does he? He does want to. But he’s not quite sure whether Phichit would want a call from him.

 

Christophe always puts his needs before others’, however. He dials.

 

“Hi?” There is surprise in Phichit’s voice, definitely tiredness, too. Nothing else is distinguishable. Chris finds himself smiling at the familiar voice nonetheless.

 

“Hey  sötnos, Victor's been chatting me up about Yuuri’s Lutz the other night, and how he’s been kissing the ice over his worry for you,” he says as a starter. He hopes it doesn’t show just how exhausted he is as well.

 

“Oh, Yuuri, he better take care not to end up like me,” Phichit laughs dryly.

 

Chris swallows. “That bad?”

 

“The fall was kinda nasty, but now it’s all fine if I refrain from moving. Which won’t last. I’ve been threatened with future movement just minutes ago,” Phichit’s voice gets increasingly chipper as he talks on. “They’re gonna decide if I’ll be fit for Worlds - 4CC is out of the question of course. And Worlds is 70% out of the question, too, but you know… I’ll most likely be here still, bored and alone, while you lot go out there having fun and ice time-”

 

It’s all very dumb, the ideas crossing Chris’ mind now, as he listens to the cheery rant with a smile of his own.  _ I could come to you, you know. I could fly across the fucking globe for an adorable face and an unforgettable ass - it’s been done before.  _ The dumbest he’s ever thought. He feels all the first and second-hand embarrassment for himself at the mere recollection of it - and recollecting becomes often and oftener.

 

They have to hang up when Josef calls him to ask whether he’s ready to go - it’s already 11. 

 

Phichit is cleared to go to Worlds, but he opts out all the same, avoiding to say why, with too much good humor to resent it altogether. Chris, who is in the process of taking his skates off at the time, throws one of them across the changing room all the same. 

 

Of course Phichit is choosing what is best for himself, despite of what Chris might be wishing - needing. 

 

 _Of course, we both take just what we need_. But Phichit possibly - and accidentally -  took more than he probably needed _from_ _him,_ Chris comes to realize. More than he’d want. He took an eager regard and worry and wonder. Maybe more. Chris doesn’t find it probable that he would’ve given them by himself. He wouldn’t just sabotage himself like that. He’s been talking to Phichit more than he does with anyone else lately and he misses Phichit all the same. It’s odd and he doesn’t understand it entirely. One thing he’s always understood about himself, though, is knowing what he wants. And he wants Phichit although he’s not entirely decided how much and in what way.

 

Time goes by and Phichit doesn’t change his mind about Worlds. However-

 

“ _ I’ll be there to cheer on Yuuri,though _ ,” a message comes through just a week before Worlds. 

 

Christophe has mixed feelings about it. From the ‘I’ll be there’ which fills him with a foolish warmth, to ‘to cheer on Yuuri’, which drops a bucket of ice all over it. There’s nothing wrong in that statement, that he’d mainly be there for his best friend. Officially speaking, especially, who would he be there for if not his best friend? The guy he was seen hanging out with a few times? And unofficially? His friend with benefits? It makes perfect sense that Phichit said nothing wrong. Not that it bothers him less. And yet he refuses to come up with what else he’d prefer to be. He delays it for when he actually sees Phichit. He’ll go with whatever he figures out on the spot. 

 

As soon as he arrives at the hotel, he’s already getting restless and impatient. He keeps checking his watch and phone, although he knows very well that their (Yuuri, Victor and Phichit’s) plane has yet to even land. 

 

When the time comes, he meets Yuuri and Victor, as he means to be ‘going out for a walk’ - no Phichit. He almost ends up being rude - he catches himself just in time. They tell him, among other things, that they’ll be going out later and they name names. Phichit is one of them and as a side note Yuuri does add something about him joining them at the restaurant because he’s staying at a different hotel and Chris needs a lot of self restraint to not ask for the address directly.  

 

He bids them goodbye and ‘see you later’s and fishes out his phone, not even thinking it through as he makes the call. 

 

“Hey,” Phichit picks up almost immediately and he sounds part pleased, part confused.

 

“Just ran into Victuuri-” which was how Phichit referred to the duo lately, ”-talking about an outing.”

 

“Oh, yes, you’ll be there, right?”  

 

“I actually wanted to see you before.” He won’t just see Phichit for the first time in such a long while when everyone else is there - when everyone else does. He guesses he’s passed the stage of maintaining a decorum and he’s not repenting or feeling embarrassment in the least.

 

“Oh,” Phichit finally reacts after a short pause. Not really something he can read much into. “Sure,” Phichit eventually adds with some reluctant cheer which Chris, again, doesn’t know how to interpret. “Meet you there? Meet me here? Or some middle point? My hotel is a five minutes walk from yours, so it’s really all the same.”

 

The ‘you could’ve shared my room’ sits on his tongue and remains there. He should’ve offered that and yet he never did. It’s questionable whether Phichit would’ve even wanted it. It’s been a while. They don’t really talk about that side of their life - he wouldn’t know if Phichit found someone else. So perhaps it may have been too forward. He has to figure out which territory they even are on.

 

“Tell me your hotel and I’ll type it in Google Maps. Wouldn’t want to exert your hip for these meager mundane activities,” he finds himself saying before he gets to think it through.

 

But Phichit just snorts, telling him the address.

 

Chris doesn’t run, but rather power walks there and he’s thankful for his training as an athlete because he’s neither looking ungracious at it nor ends up panting by the time he gets there. Phichit’s just walking out through the hotel door, a backpack hanging on one arm, and he’s looking down at his phone, smiling for some reason (knowing him too well, Chris bets it’s a meme) and there he himself is, feeling like in a dumb Nicholas Sparks movie, slow motion feeling and everything included. Oh, great, even Phichit is raising his head slowly. His smile widens when their eyes meet and Christophe can feel his own lips stretching painfully upwards. This is utmost ridiculous. He refuses to even acknowledge the silly thoughts passing through his mind. And he once thought the ‘flying across continents’ would be the most embarrassing his brain was able to supply…

 

Phichit seems to mean to rush there, then hesitate, then go  for the middle way of power walking, too. And when he reaches him he seems to be making another decision, possibly deliberating between a tight hug, a manly pat on the back or even a kiss - which is what Chris would prefer. Chris makes that decision for them and hugs him instead. Middle way. All middle ways. Figuring it out. He rest his head on Phichit’s shoulder in the hug and, oh, boy, isn’t this cheesy.

 

“My, my, you’ve been working out,” he remarks when he lets go, surprised to have observed Phichit’s filled in some second and his smile first. Yes, he’s a lost one. 

 

“Intensive rehabilitation,” Phichit shrugs. He’s had a new haircut, too, these past months. 

 

“How come you decided against participating after working so much to get yourself cleared?” Chris asks, the thought still irking him. They’re walking ahead, towards the town centre as they proposed on the phone.

 

“I wanted to, but there was still a factor of risk and one mistake could have me ending my career early and I’m not quite ready for retirement, honestly,” Phichit explains.

 

Right. Retirement. Chris guesses this is as good a time as any.

 

“I have yet to make it public, but  _ I’m _ retiring after this,” he confesses all too casually.

 

“After this?” Phichit narrows his eyes, his smile fading, stopping in his track.

 

“World’s. The exhibition, basically?” Christophe clears it up - at least that’s what he thinks he does.

 

“I...see?” Phichit starts walking again, looking pensive - there’s something heavy in the air. “This is… the last time you come to a competition,” he mutters, more to himself, by the looks of it.

 

“Yes, that’s how retirement works?” This is not going well.

 

“What do you plan to do after?” Phichit goes on. His thoughts seem to be far away. 

 

“That would depend on… things?”

 

“Things?” he gets another narrowed eyed look. And, well, this decision was not supposed to come this way.

 

Chris groans. “How do I put this?” He closes his eyes, hands brought together like in a detached prayer. “I could go after that booty call over the ocean.” He stops into place.

 

“...what?” Phichit stops with him.

 

“I mean like  _ their _ booty call?” It very much explained itself. There are  _ the _ ‘they’ in the skating world these days. 

 

“You... ‘could’?” Phichit furrows his brows. 

 

“If I got that serious booty call in the first place, yeah.”

 

Phichit looks confused, then affronted. “Is this-… is this some kind of farewell joke to you?” He’s holding onto his backpack too tightly. He looks wary. He looks frustrated and angry… and sad? He looks everything like Chris hasn’t seen him before. And Chris doesn’t feel any accomplishment in finally being exposed to this.

 

“If it’d be a joke I would’ve managed it more coherently and well delivered, but since it is badly expressed and timed declaration, I suppose we’re at a bit of an impasse.” He attempts to smile good-humouredly, but it’s just a thin lipped grimace. A few more seconds pass.

 

Phichit just stands there, still. His face is blank. His hold on the backpack has turned so slack it’s mostly more like a prop. Then, one second his grip on the backpack tightens, the next he hauls it over his head and flings it at Chris, who only has the time to temper the blow with his arms. Well, he was always a passionate one, though usually in better ways. Small and angry. He is still lowkey adorable just now and Christophe is quite amused but also lowkey terrified. 

 

“And this is the declaration you could come up with?”

 

“Well, it was more sort of on the spur of the moment.” He gets another suggestive glare at that. “A very serious spur of the moment,” he clarifies. 

 

Phichit’s hold on the bag loosens, his shoulders slacken, he looks tired in some way. “No, I need you to be more serious than that.” He looks up at Chris with a hardened expression.

 

Chris tries to speak, but he’s stopped when Phichit raises a hand with that intention. “Wait, let me say something first. However seriously you’re thinking of this, it’s probably not serious enough. You’ve never been serious about this. Not like I’ve been, anyways. I felt like a dumb idiot when Yuuri called me after the surgery and told me you knew from Victor, but you didn’t seem to give a shit, and like an even dumber idiot when I smiled like a fool at your call the next day. And the only reason I can get to see you is through competitions and this just now- I literally travelled all this way to see you instead of minding my own business, watching a livestream at home like a normal person because I am that much of an idiot. And in the meantime you’re so chill about it. Chill about flirting with me in the first place because it’s … whatever happens. Chill about me being here or not or seeing me or not because it’s whatever happens. Chill about retiring because it’s whatever happens. Chill about being serious about this because it’s just whatever happens.” Finally, he sighs, breathless, looking down.

 

It’s awkwardly quiet.

 

“I-,” Chris clears his throat, taking in a deep breath. Well, then- “I was all too chill starting this, yeah, which shows I’m not the smarter of the two. But you may remember how not very chill I was when you weren’t there at the GPF. And Victor will confirm how not chill I was through that  _ and _ Europeans. And I was definitely not chill about your injury. I was worried sick, just fucking counting the hours for ‘normal people time to make international calls’, first to Yuuri and then to you.“

 

“First to Yuuri?” 

 

“I was not quite sure whether I’ll get the Thai or the Italian on the line, ok? And now World’s- don’t get me started, especially on the ‘coming to cheer  _ for Yuuri _ ’ bit, I swear- none of us is quite chill.”

 

“We aren’t chill at all,” Phichit shakes his head, thoughtful.

 

“Not in the slightest,” Chris nods.

 

“We’re really going down  _ their _ path at that.”

 

“That’s worrisome.”

 

“Why’d you go for a hug?”

 

“I don’t know. It’s not like me to choose the safe way. I’ve been waiting to kiss you for months.”

 

“Well fucking do it.”

 

“I can’t. We’re supposed to have a very serious conversation like you req-”

 

Phichit grabs his shirt and pulls him in before he could finish. He wasn’t saying anything important all the same. Definitely not more important than this. Chris snorts when Phichit pulls out, languidly biting his lower lip. 

 

“Are we really going out with those guys tonight?” Chris asks, cupping his cheeks.

 

“Yes, we are,” Phichit grins, planting a kiss on his nose.

 

Chris groans. Phichit laughs. It's nice to be back on track. Also nice to be onto something entirely new.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me starting this fic: I love this fic and it’s gonna be under 2k  
> Me finishing this fic: I hate this fic when does it end


End file.
